


So Hold On

by missgoalie75



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missgoalie75/pseuds/missgoalie75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And maybe he’s paranoid or weird (he’s definitely the latter, he’ll admit) but her mouth looks more kissable than usual and he’s not sure if it’s because he’s feeling a little more lonely right now or if she’s definitely left from Jackson’s house and was just kissing him.</p>
<p>…Maybe he needs to sleep. He hasn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep in a while. He’s probably deranged and shouldn’t be talking to anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Hold On

**Author's Note:**

> Title and lyrics used are from "Everybody Hurts" by R.E.M. Spoilers through 2x12.

His face hurts.

He’s done some research and he doesn’t have nerve damage (even though he wishes he did because  _ow_ , he could appreciate being numb for a while), so recovery time shouldn’t be very long. Even so, it’s not fun having one’s face be a giant bruise that throbs with every pound of his heart.

He can’t seem to explain the tingling ache in the back of his hands though. He doesn’t think it’s directly related to Grandpa Argent punching the crap out of him, but he doesn’t like thinking about other explanations, causes.

The tingling ache becomes sharper when he thinks about the way Jackson held Lydia, the way her hand came around his back and through his hair because Stiles is trying to accept the fact that he won’t be able to hold her like Jackson can and there’s no question: she wouldn’t risk so much to save him like she did with Jackson.

Stiles closes his eyes and feels his nose sting and he wonders how many goddamn body parts can possibly hurt now. Maybe this is a mild form of depression – isn’t that a side effect? Everything hurts?

_Everybody hurts sometimes…_

He thinks R.E.M. may have just meant it in an emotional way, which is kind of happening to him too at the moment, but. The physical pain is really distracting and awful and it’s easier to focus on.

His cell vibrates by his head and it’s the house (his dad) calling. “Hey,” Stiles says. “Everything okay?”

“ _Yeah, just. Lydia’s here again. I don’t know if you’re feeling up to visitors right now, but._ ”

He just really, really loves his dad.

He always wants to see her – she’s always brightened everything in this (previously) dull town – but after last night –  _I do, I do still love you_  –

His stomach clenches and  _oh my God_ , not that too. Can just one thing about him not  _hurt_  or feel  _weird_?

But since he’s always thought himself to be a bit of a masochist (who willingly gets involved in the supernatural and still claims to be sane?) he says, “You can send her up. She won’t stay long.”

“ _Okay._ ”

Stiles hangs up and drops his phone onto the mattress, and then it slides off onto the ground. “Great.” He shifts a little and stretches his arm down, but he knows he won’t be able to reach. But he keeps trying. Because he doesn’t know when to  _fucking quit_.

The door opens and of course she catches him trying to reach for his phone, straining his arm and back (great, more pain to look forward to) with a face that no doubt makes him look like he’s constipated. Awesome.

Lydia walks in, face devoid of makeup and she’s still so pretty, wearing pink sweatpants and a lacrosse sweatshirt and wow, he kind of hates her a little bit for that. And maybe he’s paranoid or weird (he’s definitely the latter, he’ll admit) but her mouth looks more kissable than usual and he’s not sure if it’s because he’s feeling a little more lonely right now or if she’s definitely left from Jackson’s house and was just kissing him.

…Maybe he needs to sleep. He hasn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep in a while. He’s probably deranged and shouldn’t be talking to anyone.

“Hey,” she says, kneeling down beside him to pick up his phone and placing it on the mattress. “How’s your face?”

He exhales, roll his face off the pillow and forcing himself to sit up. “Well, I don’t think this shade of purple goes with my skin tone, but I suppose it’s better than the green-yellow it’ll turn into in a few days, so.”

She smiles a little and he kind of just wants to mope in peace because having her right in his face is kind of making this a lot worse. “Why are you here,” he asks, lifting a hand up to rub his eyes before remembering the last time he did that, he was in severe pain for at least twenty minutes. So he drops it back on his leg.

She sighs, straightening up and taking a seat on the edge of his bed. He’s tempted to tell her that if she means to be in his room and talk to him, she can’t be wearing Jackson’s clothes; he doesn’t want any part of Jackson in his safe space.

“To see how you were,” she answers like he’s being thick.

“Well, despite the craziness and the fact that I’ve been punched in the face enough for one lifetime, I’m fine. Just trying to sleep.”

She gives him a look that obviously shows her disbelief. “You haven’t slept at all.”

“Neither have you,” he points out, nodding toward the dark circles under her eyes and  _oh God_ , if she hasn’t been sleeping then what –

He squeezes his eyes shut when he feels his eyes sting and just mutters, “I really need to sleep,” before opening them again.

She exhales sharply through her nose, pursing her lips in thought and he really just wants to rip that damn sweatshirt off, and not in the sexual way, just – it hurts. It’s like a dog collar around her neck and he  _knows_  it’s not like that – or at least it can’t be totally like that, as he witnessed last night, but.

“Hey,” she says softly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and it’s comforting, despite the fact that the layers between his skin and hers is his ratty old polo that he refuses to throw away and Jackson’s sweatshirt. Still it’s something.

“Stiles,” she says a bit more sharply.

“Sorry,” he says, now feeling restless in her half-hold and  _she’s actually touching him willingly_. “I think too much. Get distracted. I didn’t take my meds today, so.”

“Do you  _ever_  take ADD medication?”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Yeah, for school.”

“Oh…well then I don’t know how to account for your erratic behavior then.”

He laughs a little. “No, that’s just my stunning personality.”

They stay that way for a few minutes and it’s kind of sad how not a single female has held him like this, not since his mom and that just brings it to a whole new level on depressing.

“Okay, you could use a hug,” she states, like a scientific fact and maybe she can somehow sense the chemical imbalance in him that makes her statement true – she’s amazingly smart like that – or maybe it’s women’s intuition, which he could never made heads or tails of. “Come on.” She pushes him in and turns toward him so she can wrap both her arms around him in a loose hug.

He does the same, careful not to pull her in even though he wants to, but he can still smell her shampoo anyway and her face is  _right there,_  but he’s catching a whiff of Jackson’s aftershave that automatically makes him think the word ‘douche’ and it’s  _so hard_  to reconcile that with the guy who was looking at Lydia like she was his  _everything_  and holding her like he never wanted to let her go.

His hold tightens on her without meaning to as tears spring to his eyes and  _oh no not again_  but that was a  _one off_ , he can’t cry about it every damn time he thinks about it. Besides, it’s not like he ever had a serious chance, at least not in this town, especially not  _now_ , now that Jackson’s a werewolf and it seems the werewolf always gets the girl.

She then starts rubbing his back and he  _loses_  it because his mom would do the _same thing_  and the upside to sobbing into his crush’s shoulder is that she’s wearing her ass of a guy’s sweatshirt, so hopefully he can get some snot on it.

Surprisingly, she starts hugging him tighter and this is a legitimate  _comfort hug_ that’s actually going both ways because he’s pretty sure he can feel his neck getting wet with tears, which he’s confused about (what does she have to cry about – Jackson is okay and alive and clearly loves her?), but he keeps his mouth shut for once.

Eventually, he can breathe evenly (not properly – his sinuses are shot to hell at this point) and he’s stopped crying and just feels…calmer. His head doesn’t feel like it’s running a million miles a minute, like he’s floating on water and his ears are submerged, not taking in much of anything. “This is kind of nice and cathartic,” he mumbles and she laughs, sounding just as congested as he does.

She sniffles and pulls away, her face blotchy and eyes red, but she still looks pretty to him. “That is what I was looking for when I came over,” she tells him, rolling her eyes but she keeps a hand on his forearm while the other carefully checks her face for tears.

He clenches his jaw and he has to fight not to wince as he says, “I still stand by what I said – death does happen to everyone around you, so. Don’t throw your life around all…willy-nilly.”

She looks at him with an expression that simultaneously confused and judgmental. “ _Willy-nilly_?”

“I’m running on no sleep, don’t hold anything I say against me.”

“Jackson isn’t  _willy-nilly_  to me,” she tells him softly and this is as much of a rejection as he’s going to get.

He just nods and carefully wipes his face dry. “I really have to invest in tissues.”

She actually laughs and his stomach lurches a bit, but it’s not nearly as distracting as it usually is. Good sign, hopefully?

“I should go and sleep,” she says, standing up. “You too,” she adds, directing her sharp gaze at him and he’s not one to disobey her.

Her eyes soften and she places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing a little. “See you at school.”

He nods, awkwardly crossing his arm across his chest to pat her hand. “See you.”

She gives him a smile before walking out of his room, closing the door behind her.

He sighs, falling to his side, head hitting the pillow and it’s a lot easier to close his eyes, breathe in and out and. just. rest.

(At least for now.)


End file.
